Cadeau
by Sailor Comet
Summary: Yami Bakura POV, death, yaoi, AU, slight language, contest entry. Ryoh's reluctant to accept a "gift" from Yami Bakura...


Vamp fic for Chibizoo. Also a contest entry. Anybody familiar with Vampire: The Masquerade and Mage: The Ascension should recognize some concepts, since this fic parallels a story I read in a Vampire clan-book. 

Information on blood loss & its effects found in a _Fables_ comic and online.

I spell Ryou "Ryoh," because other people spell Yuugiou "Yu-Gi-Oh," and because Ryoh isn't mispronounced as much.

Yami Bakura POV, AU, slight language, blood & death.

Illustration! ygowordplays.com /cadeaupic. html [take out the spaces… ff.net is eeevil]

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"Some things you lose and some things you just give away."

-- Jack Off Jill, "Strawberry Gashes"

~~~****

Cadeau 

~~~

Ryoh didn't understand. Silly, precious, little Ryoh just didn't understand the offered gift… and so he thrashed and pushed – silly mage-child, you can't overpower a vampire physically, even if you're not really feeble or weak like most humans, even if you're not really a child except when compared with one as old as I. Not at all able to compete with me physically, though; his hands pushed against my chest and all I really noticed, and this only faintly through my pleasure, was the pulses in his fingertips and the warmth of his skin. 

Perhaps I should have given him some warning first, but we'll have so much time soon for me to make it all up to him… And I'm sure he understood somewhat. He didn't really resist, else I'd have been reduced to a smoking pair of singed motorcycle boots as soon as I even got started. Lovely, powerful, witchborn Ryoh, soon to be doubly powerful when he receives his gift.

He was so amazing, so fantastically powerful in the rush of the battle, going so quickly from one spell to the next that his hands left glowing streaks of energy in the air as he moved them in incantation. I was pleasantly shocked; I'd cornered him in the alley with the intention of sucking him dry, but instead he got rid of the gang that had been following me. A lucky chance; if I'd started to attack him it would have been my blood spraying on the dull brick walls, my entrails being blasted from my gut with such a force as to loudly knock over the metal trashcan behind me, my shrapnel-like shattered bones, and my high-pitched shrieks of death. 

And then, after the last of them were gone, I had to lean against the slippery wall to stand up. Though his attack hadn't been aimed at me, only at the ten or so other vampires who'd been after me, the magic hit with the force of a thunderbolt – the sound alone hitting me in the chest with enough force to make me breathless.

He was so beautiful. He doesn't like to do that, but he doesn't know how gorgeous he was with the blood dripping down his face, setting in his hair, and the little shreds of somebody's muscle sticking to his jeans. 

I stared at him, wondering if I was next (and really it wouldn't be a bad way to die – it looked rather fun, and you get as old as me and dying doesn't look so bad), and he offered me his hand. The gorgeous, hell-spawn creature supported me (on my shamefully wobbling legs) to his house, casting a bit of glamour over us so that our scarlet make-up would attract no attention, and there he realized that I was no different from the mass he'd slaughtered in the alley. But maybe perfect, loving Ryoh was feeling a bit of regret for the bloodshed, because he didn't hurt me. 

Instead, when he realized how hungry I was, he slashed his own arm and filled a cup for me. Such a threshold of pain, to slice so deeply into his own flesh and watch it bleed, and for me – I wanted to suck it straight from him, but he wisely didn't trust me enough to give me control of how much I took. 

(It was so amusing, that even after we started kissing some weeks past, I had to be very, very persuasive for him to allow me to give him a hicky.)

Not as though I could take from him against his will – he has such power, and such control over it as well. Not like his sister, who didn't have the will to let go of the energy and anger and in a bright flash it ate her from the inside. First it seeped out of her eyes and mouth like flashlights, and then she tried to scream and then she wasn't there anymore. Not even any blood, regrettably. 

Ryoh told me that it looked like a terrific way to commit suicide.

Smart, wonderful mage-child Ryoh. If I'd drained him then, I wouldn't know to give him his gift now. I wouldn't know how much I could desire to be with him, even more powerfully and passionately than I desire drink during my bloodlust. I wouldn't know how his presence, his silly, fangless smile fills me more than blood – even _his_ blood, this delicious perfect substance – ever possibly could. 

His blood _is_ utterly amazing, more so than any I've been able to drink before. He quit struggling a good while ago, thankfully – fainted due to lack of blood circulating oxygen to the brain. He's got to be at least halfway drained by now – and so we've reached the point of no return, or however that goes. A person can only lose so much blood – four pints, usually – before they'll go into an irreversible shock and die. Perfect, pale Ryoh's a bit on the thin side, and doesn't have as much meat on him as most. So I know there's no turning back now… but that's alright. This is what I wanted.

I hasten; I don't want him a stiff corpse before I'm ready to give him his present. Now that I don't have to hold him still, one hand grabs the knife from my belt. My other arm is still wrapped around my precious witch, supporting his limp body. I do hope he didn't feel too horribly betrayed – I could taste his hurt as I fed, but perhaps not in its full force. 

Soon. Soon. He's nearly empty. Regretfully (he tasted so wonderful, I think I could have ignored being in the center of a supernova for that taste) I withdraw my fangs; a little blood dribbles from his neck, but there's not enough left in his body for the wound to gush. Soon after, my saliva on his neck pushes the little lacerations shut. 

Gently, always gentle with the powerful mage-child who trusted me ten minutes ago, I lay his body out on the clean carpet of his apartment. He's stopped breathing, and I'm sure his heart is no longer moving as well, the blood only continuing to flow through his veins and arteries because of the force of my pulling it through. I would stop to admire his white skin, so white that his hair might be darker than it, except the gift must be given now or not at all.

Still so gently, touches with so little force a baby could resist them, I open his mouth. If only he knew the gift; he would have been exhilarated while I fed. I position my arm above his face and quickly slice my wrist. It's a shallow cut, since my body hasn't been replenishing my blood supply for hundreds of years now and I have to be careful how I use it. However shallow, it suffices. His blood, swirled in my body with my own, drips out and returns to him, landing in his open mouth. 

After spilling a sufficient amount I draw my arm back. A quick lick of the wound and my saliva draws the skin closed, and then my attention is completely on my beautiful witch Ryoh. I wait.

Witchborn _and_ a vampire; it frightens and exhilarates me to think that such a powerful creature will be mine… and I will be his, always his, with that power he can have anything he wants. I could taste his affection for me as well; it still lingers on my tongue and I regret the fact that my spit will soon wash it away. But there will be time enough, time forever, once his present is finally accepted….

I wait.

He is still not breathing, but neither am I; vampires have no need of it. I am, however, growing slightly apprehensive. Shouldn't he have risen by now? He _should_ be in an insane and violent bloodlust; he has only the little bit of blood I left him with and the small amount I returned to him. He should be in such need that he cannot merely lie still before me, as though he were dead….

My witch, my powerful mage-child who isn't going to die this pathetically, who's going to die because he won't let go of the magic and it will claw and rage and destroy its way out of him, because he told me so, why doesn't he open his eyes? Why doesn't he lunge at me in a blind fury, because the lust is so strong that even emptying me becomes an option? 

My lovely, my precious magic-user, my saviour, why don't you reassure me? I was so positive it didn't take this long… You'll be up so quick I won't know what hit me, won't you? Up and angry and screaming, please, with your wide eyes and your new fangs, come on, yelling at me what the hell was I doing and why didn't I warn you, and I can say I'm sorry I am so goddamn sorry, and when I've calmed you down you'll tell me how much you love your present, and then I can tell you how much I love _you_…

Ryoh… _Look_ _at_ _me_… Gods, these things shouldn't take so _long_… But it's probably only been a couple moments, I'm just over-agonizing again, right? You _are_ going to tell me how silly I am, how ridiculous it is that somebody as old as me is so pathetically attached to little, perfect you… won't you?

Ryoh, please, open your eyes…


End file.
